


Repairs

by giraffingallday



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Fic, so so soft, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 07:21:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15189710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffingallday/pseuds/giraffingallday
Summary: Error. Virus detected. Running diagnostic....Virus diagnosed. (2) Components in need of replacement. [Expand]-Connor has a virus, Hank takes care of him.





	Repairs

**Author's Note:**

> im so hyperfixated on this dam game hooooly shit  
> i was inspired to write this by this (https://howling-wizard.tumblr.com/post/175083791672/hank-helps-connor-update-some-of-his-body-parts-3) beautiful piece of fanart, so go appreciate the artist and check out their other stuff!!
> 
> i tried so hard to make the hyperlink work but being funtional isnt my thing

**Error. Virus detected. Running diagnostic.**

**...**

**Virus diagnosed. (2) Components in need of replacement. [Expand]**

Connor didn’t like the word ‘sick’, it felt too organic to describe him. Androids couldn’t get sick. But holy hell could deviants _feel_ sick. Thirium pumped irregularly through him as a result of the errors, causing the sensation of throbbing in his head, and his pressure sensors were in overdrive, giving the illusion of sensitivity in his synthetic skin. His system placed the priority order for the parts he needed to replace, and he sagged where he was sat on the kitchen floor when Hank’s alarm went off.

On a normal morning, Hank would grumble around in the bathroom before coming to the kitchen to find breakfast already prepared; something he insisted Connor stopped doing, but Connor continued because it allowed Hank to sleep in later. He was fully aware that when people cared for each other they went out of their way to convenience the other, and he cared greatly for Hank. Perhaps it was great care that made Hank want Connor to stop, but there was no inconvenience in cooking for him.

However, virus detection meant this was not a normal morning, and Hank stopped dead in his tracks when he entered the kitchen to find Connor slouched against the cabinets, Sumo lying beside him defensively, “Connor? Fuck.” He dropped on his knees, sliding his palm along the angle of Connor’s jaw, his hand was cold and Connor whined and leaned into it, he felt terribly human. “Hell, you’re burning hot, what’s wrong?”

“A virus damaged some components, including my temperature regulator. My replacements will be here by late afternoon.” His words come out slower than he intended, and he slurred on ‘regulator’ in a way that made Hank cringe and push Connor’s hair back from his forehead – if he was human, Connor imagined he would be sweaty. “I will be fine once my repairs are complete; I apologize for not having breakfast prepared.”

Hank chuckles, but it sounds strained, and he shakes his head, “I told you to stop doing that stuff. Let’s get you up.” He dropped his hand despite Connor’s groan of protest, and instead curled his arm around Connor’s midriff before hoisting him up. They pause once they’re both standing, and lean back against the counter, “You’re damn heavy, can you walk to the bedroom?” Connor nods, but as soon as he begins to walk forward his knees buckle, only saved from falling by the arm Hank had around him, “Don’t try to support your own weight, let’s just get you to the couch.” He uses his free hand to hold the one Connor is using to, most likely, bruise his shoulder in an attempt to keep himself up, it’s a comforting gesture that Connor makes note to thank Hank for once he is no longer focused solely on covering the space between the kitchen and the couch.

They move slow, engines inside Connor that usually run silently whirring in a way that worries them both, his LED indicator is glowing red. Hank utters words of encouragement with each step they manage, until finally Connor is collapsing back on the couch, grunting when his artificial nerves decide to alert him that the feeling is akin to dropping thirty stories onto pavement. Hank crouched down beside him, a look of sympathy on his face, “Lieutenant, unless my internal clock has been compromised as well I believe you are going to be late for work if you stay any longer.”  He was confused by the bark of laughter Hank gave, and the red LED flashed briefly yellow before he forfeited his attempt at understanding, systems too muddled to work at any decent speed. “Thank you for getting me to a more suitable resting place, your assistance has been extremely comforting, but I do not see the humor in the situation.”

Connor felt Hank’s hand, still holding his, give a gentle squeeze, his hand ached despite the gentle grip, “What’s funny, you dumbass, is that you think I’m going to work.” Connor opened his mouth to protest but Hank cut him off, “I’m staying too, and then when your new parts get here, I’ll make sure to patch you up just fine.” Tempted as he was to assure Hank he could wait until the man got home to have his repairs made, or even manage them himself; there was something especially gentle about his tone, Connor laid in silence to decipher it, and eventually settled on concern. Hank was too concerned to leave him.

“I will send Captain Fowler an amendment to my earlier email, so he is aware you will be absent from work as well.” His response must have pleased Hank, as he folded himself down to sit on the floor next to the couch, “Lieu- Hank? I’ll be going into rest mode, and would greatly appreciate your presence at a closer proximity.”

There was a rustle as Hank stood, and he dropped to the couch, shifting Connor around so there was room for both of them, “Get your rest sweetheart, I’ll let you know when the parts are here.” He tucked Connor snug against his side, and even though Connor felt overheated and he ached to the touch, he felt distinctly comfortable. He heard the television click on – something to help Hank pass the time – and the sound of Sumo flopping down in front of the couch, and then he allowed his system to power down.

When Connor woke, it was to the sound of Hank’s voice, “Connor, c’mon, your new parts are here.” He was coaxing him out of his restful state, one hand carefully shaking Connor’s shoulder while the other balanced a brown package on his knee. He grinned when Connor opened his eyes, LED blinking on and flickering blue, “There he is! How’re you feeling?” His expression brightened when Connor became more alert, so the android gave him a smile.

“My virus has been neutralized, though my physical symptoms don’t seem to have improved, I’m sure I’ll feel like new when my new parts are installed.” He could practically feel his LED blink red for only a second. Deviants could feel pain, or an android variation of it, reinstalling new parts was something he tried to avoid as much as he could. “It may be easier for you if I’m on the floor.”

The sound of tape tearing off cardboard jarred his pursuit, uncharacteristically startled by it, “Stay put, I know you hate this.” Hank pressed Connor back down against the couch, his large palm heavy but careful, “I can do it just as easy with you on the couch.” Plastic crinkled as Hank pulled different parts out; a temperature gage and a sensor calibrator, and Connor closed his eyes, avoiding the sight them. Hank noticed his anxiety immediately, he was better at evaluating emotions than Connor was, and he stopped the task at hand to put his hand on Connor’s hip, leaning over to press a chaste kiss to his forehead, “I’ll be as fast as I can.” He moved the hand he had on Connor’s hip to link their fingers together, the process was easy to complete with one hand, and Hank knew Connor liked to have something grounding.

As promised, Hank moved quickly after this; he started with the sensor calibrator. Connor turned off his skin, too tired and wound up to focus on only specific parts, and Hank pushed his shirt up to reveal his midriff panel. A light tug pulled it open and revealed Connor’s inner wirings; he felt his Thirium pump stutter, pushing excess blue blood into his face – an embarrassed reaction. He kept his eyes closed. Hank shushed the sharp gasp that left Connor when he disconnected the damaged part, thumb stroking over the knuckles of his now violently trembling hand. The pain was immense, the first time they replaced a component Hank was slow and unpracticed, Connor ended up in a fit of sobs from the feeling of his equivalent to human organs being removed. Hank quickly fit in and connected the new part and Connor went stiff as his body analyzed and then accepted the new piece, “You alright?” He clicked the panel shut when Connor relaxed and nodded, sliding his palm to grip the smooth side of his waist, “Give me a kiss, you need a break.” Though the moment was short, there was no feeling of relief for Connor, temperature gages were more painful.

He let Hank kiss him, and embraced the distraction while his indicator flashed between red and blue, conflicted by what was currently taking up his attention and what he knew was to come. After kissing him for as long as Hank’s lungs would hold out he pulled back, and an idea came into Connor’s mind; he paused to decide on wording before he spoke, “Hank, would you consider me less attractive without my projected skin compared to with it?” He wouldn’t be offended by what was sure to be an affirmative answer, he couldn’t speak for all androids, but Connor felt no attachment to physical appearances, he was more drawn to the emotional connections he had with the lieutenant.

Hank gave him an incredulous look and pulled back, eyes drawing over the stark white surface of Connor’s form, “Hell Connor, that’s like me asking if you think I’d make for a sexy skeleton.” He gave a little chuckle at his own comparison, before regarding Connor’s appearance more seriously, “You look like a machine. Without the skin. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the idiot I got stuck on. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t take a bullet for the hunk of plastic you call a body. That’s the important stuff you got it?”

“I love you too.” There was a wide grin on Connor’s face, well aware he’d caught another one of Hank’s soft moments. The phrase ‘I love you’ didn’t often leave Hank’s lips, but Connor quickly became confident in his ability to decipher the ways he hid it in other words.

A faint pink bloomed on Hank’s cheeks to tell Connor he was right in his assumptions, and he patted his side gently, “Alright you goof, time to turn over.” The switch from blue to red in Connor’s LED was instant; Hank would phrase it as ‘a shift in the air’ but their environment hadn’t changed – Connor wasn’t a fan of turns of phrase – so there wasn’t any genuine shift, only rising tensions.

Connor let Hank help him onto his stomach and fix his shirt back into place; he stiffened when Hank pulled down the collar of the second hand t-shirt, pressing open a small panel on the nape of his neck. Without temperature regulators, androids could easily become damaged beyond repair from heat or cold, it made it harder to remove the piece, a two hand job. Hank, caring and gentle as he was, didn’t start immediately, instead he pulled one of Connor’s hands from where he was gripping the couch cushion in anticipation, and placed it instead on his knee, bare because he hadn’t changed out of his pajamas – boxers and a t-shirt – since he found Connor that morning, “Something human to hang onto, good?” Connor gave a brisk nod, and squeezed Hank’s knee a bit experimentally, the feeling of flesh and bone wasn’t reassuring, but knowing it was _Hank’s_ flesh and bone, he felt calmer.

Temperature gages were clipped in with four latches; to remove them, all four latches had to be held down while the component was removed. Hank pushed down the first latch, and Connor went rigid. The red LED blinked rapidly, he squeezed onto Hank’s knee, tight, to try and maintain some control, but when the fourth latch was pressed down a strangled cry of pain broke out of his mouth anyway. There were downsides to deviancy. Hank stayed silent even though Connor wasn’t able to do the same, trying to work as efficiently as possible. After the first sound left him he began. Well. Not _crying_ , deviant or not, Connor’s model wasn’t built with that ability, but weighted sobs left him all the same. It was over in only a few minutes, his systems processing and then running smooth with the new parts installed, but Connor only laid limp against the couch after enabling his skin.

The emotional taxes of pain were something he had no way of premeditating, always different. Several alerts popped up, diagnostics he forgot to override that ran as a result of emotion, alerting him of an instability in his software, as if he wasn’t aware. Hank tucked all the packaging into the box it came in, and then put his full attention on Connor. He pulled him up, and sunk back against the couch with Connor on his lap, LED returning to blue; Connor felt Hank press his nose into his hair, pushing a kiss against the, now stable, light on his temple. “Feel better?” Connor nodded, overwhelmed, Hank could tell, “I love you.” He gave a low chuckle at how Connor seemed to perk up, as though being told he was loved was a treat.

Connor tilted his head up to look at his partner, blue eyes and a large nose, grey hair that was long overdue for a cut, wrinkles, bags under his eyes, slight scarring on his skin from years of sun exposure and bad diets. Connor thought he was the most beautiful thing he had ever looked at, every flaw made him more tangible, more human. He distracted himself with thoughts of Hank, lifting his hand to touch his face carefully, and pressing his finger against the thin skin under his eyes. He could feel Hank’s pulse while he watched patiently and let Connor touch and feel out all his signs of humanity. “You’re very handsome Lieutenant.” He moved his hand, fingers light in their touch, to slide through Hank’s hair, and Hank smiled, derailing Connor’s exploration so he could feel the crinkles at the corner of Hank’s eyes, smiling back up at him.

“You’ve got those too y’know.” Hank bumped the knuckle of his index finger against the eye crinkles Connor’s smile created, then opening his hand to hold the side of Connor’s face.

“More proof that I’m deviant.” Connor teased the words, smile widening. He knew when he smiled genuinely, wide like that, his smile was goofy, something he wasn’t created to do, but Hank said that made it better. Looking at all the wonderful flaws on the human’s skin made him understand why a little better.

Hank pushed Connor down, always far gentler with him than he needed to be, so he was lying with his back on the couch, legs still draped over Hank’s lap. The lieutenant pushed himself up and shuffled around so he was hovering over Connor, and leaned down to kiss him, they were both smiling into it, an entirely human act, “Kid I’ll take any sign of your deviancy I can get.”

**Author's Note:**

> i really appreciate feedback!! let me know your thoughts!


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